Harry Potter and the Veil of Shadows
by Gosunkugi
Summary: An unexpected visit in the night and a nightmarish prophecy brings Harry more trouble than he can handle.


HARRY POTTER

AND THE

VEIL OF SHADOWS

_Prologue_

Black was the night that surrounded them, for no stars could be seen through the thick clouds that curtained the sky. Black were the robes they wore to travel the paths between worlds, unseen and unheard, for every word they uttered was as shadow. They were the shades, the unholy, the defilers and corruptors. To renounce, deny and subvert. As evil shapes they ran with the wolves, bats and soulless creatures of the dark.

The time before the moon was theirs.

They were the first wizards.

_One_

An Unexpected Visit

Of all the streets and houses in Surrey, one alone was special. Regular folk would imagine Privet drive held very few surprises at first glance. Delve deeper however and you'd see, hidden carefully, just beyond the shroud of normalcy existed another realm, the world of magic.

So picture yourself then, at midnight in the month of June, an unusually cold night on the cusp of the witching hour when footsteps in the dark crunch loudly through the frosted grass. Glance around you and maybe, just maybe you'd see something… someone.

The black robed figure strode quickly onwards towards the house. As he neared the entrance to Privet Drive, the lights around him shut off with decently sharp clicks.

While In the bedroom of number 4, Harry Potter slept uneasily, his dreams were of flying, which he loved, but this time there was something behind him, always following, trailing his every movement, not quite chasing him but… watching.

Downstairs the stillness was broken by a loud rapping.

Vernon Dursley opened the fine oak door of the house with his usual touch of annoyance, being awoken this late at night was inconvenient enough, to be roused by … by… this sort of rabble was beyond tolerance. "WHAT the HELL do you want? What's the meaning of this?"

The words that came forth from the mouth of the thin, lank haired and hook nosed wizard were pure venom, almost a curse. More like a command than a request. Two simple words and it seemed it took every ounce of willpower for the figure to utter them.

"_Harry Potter."_

A chill ran through Harry's body as he heard the voice downstairs. The knocking had woken him and now he lay there in the dark, the bedcovers offering no protection. Please not here, never here. Something like alarm caused his feet to automatically slide out of bed and into the threadbare slippers tossed haphazardly under it. By the time Harry reached his bedroom door to press his ear against it, the voice of uncle Vernon had risen by several decibels, by now the entire neighbourhood would be waking up and Harry's panic was growing enormously.

"_Alohamora!"_ the click and thunk of several deadbolts sliding suddenly open made Harry jump backwards several feet. Tripping over the edge of the bed he landed awkwardly and lay there as the door creaked ominously, opening slowly toward him. All was in shadow, the very air seemed like it was frozen.

"P…professor Snape…" Harry's breath fogged heavily as he opened his mouth.

"Don't lie there like a fool Potter, get up and dressed, we have work to do."

"Work?" Harry checked his watch. "At this time?"

"Yes I know it's midnight, don't think for a second that I _want_ to be here Potter, it's enough of a burden to be around you in the daytime." He paused and surveyed the room with a measure of distaste. "We're late, get your broom… we have a lesson to begin."

_Two_

Harry's Awakening

The air roared past Harry's ears and whipped his hair into a frenzy as he flew through the night. Faster and faster the thoughts raced through his mind as he rode the Firebolt ever harder, skimming the trees and scattering leaves in his wake. Through it all, the serpent voiced Professor hissed, somehow always audible "It's good to be afraid isn't it?"

"I don't understand" Harry cried as the broom twisted uncomfortably in his hands, nearly throwing him. To fall off at this speed would be certain death, Harry wasn't sure he could come up with a spell quick enough to save him if he slipped.

Ahead, Professor Snape slowed on his own broom, a nondescript and by the looks of it, very old Nimbus, and turned to face him.

"Terror Potter. It's the key, the point you reach when your mind is fully open."

Harry brought himself to a halt and took a deep breath. Gazing up at Snape was awkward, this was only the second time he'd seen him ride, he'd assumed that the preferred method of travel for a wizard of his caliber would be apparition but Snape looked like he was born to fly.

"Open?"

"Open to new things. With adrenaline comes sudden realization. Your heart is only truly alive when you feel it burning in your chest. Do you understand?"

Harry seriously doubted that Snape had a heart but he nodded. "I feel it sir." He said, flexing his fingers uncomfortably to get the feeling back.

"Is that so? Well… now that you've mastered it I think it's time to put it to the test."

Snape smiled cruelly. "Higher."

Above the clouds, the moon shone brightly. Harry broke through the blanket of dark vapour and surveyed the sky with wonder. It was eerily beautiful but this was no time for sightseeing, already his hands felt like they were sticking to the broom handle, his sweat freezing him to the wood. What was he doing here? This was unlike any lesson he'd ever had before.

The clouds below suddenly erupted with a green flash as a fireball shot toward him.

Harry had barely a second to react, twisting the broom under him and kicking hard to the left… It wasn't enough. The fireball sizzled past his shoulder and he felt his entire body go numb. His fingers slipped and he watched in horror as his lifeline dropped into the never-ending blackness below. Before he knew it… he was falling behind it.

As he plummeted through the damp, freezing clouds, a hundred thoughts flashed into his head at once, none of them were good. This has happened before but there's no one to save me now. I'm doing to die, Snape wants to murder me. I'll never see my friends again; no one will know what happened to me. He squeezed his eyes shut and cried out in fear and desperation.

Then all at once, in that cold and clammy bed a peculiar calmness came over Harry. For the first time that evening, he felt like he could understand. Not just tonight's _lesson_, all sorts of solutions rushed into his brain. New Quidditch moves, spell names, words, equations… and something else. A vision began to form. Cloaked and hooded figures stood like statues amongst a ruined castle, the landscape around them scarred and pitted, smoke curling upwards slowly as Harry floated through the air towards them. As he neared, one figure noticed him, its head turning his way, but there was nothing under the hood, no face. As he struggled in vain to stop himself floating closer, the others turned too, six robed sentinels and Harry somehow knew they were looking straight at him... and speaking…

"_Beware the moon."_

Harry's eyes snapped open.

He knew just what to do.

The boy's body rushed through the envelope and into the clear night sky, traveling so fast it was almost a blur. Professor Snape raised his eyebrows and watched.

"_Accio Firebolt!"_ The broom shot upwards and nearly knocked Severus of his perch. Harry's hand automatically opened and grabbed hold firmly. Regular Quidditch matches at Hogwarts had taught him how to remount in emergencies, his legs curling underneath easily and holding on tight. As he brought himself to a halt shakily in front of Snape he noticed a sneer on the professor's face.

"Now do you feel it?" he said.

Harry's rage burned, his shoulder throbbing harshly as the feeling slowly came back, he couldn't keep the bitterness inside anymore, years of frustration broke free.

"_I hate you."_

Professor Severus Snape just smiled and nodded slightly. "Good. Now we can begin."

Harry thought if he gripped the broom any tighter it would break.

Snape had been right. He _could_ feel it. Professor Snape, the one person he hated more on earth than Voldermort had been right. This was turning out to be one strange night.

_Three_

The Gathering

Remus Lupin lay trembling in his bed, the sheets cocooning him horribly as his sweat ran down his knobbly back in rivulets.

"Well that was an odd dream." He gasped. A figure stirred under the remaining covers at his side but made no sound in reply. Running his hands through his already messy hair he sighed and swung his legs out of bed.


End file.
